


winter dreams the same dream every time

by RoseisaRoseisaRose



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Academy phase, Azure Moon - Freeform, Being cold, F/M, I guess only some of these are snow related but they're all very cute I promise, arguing about song lyrics, complaining about snow, drinking hot chocolate, extremely mild first kisses, many slow related activities including but not limited to, sitting by fire places, slipping at falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28410267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseisaRoseisaRose/pseuds/RoseisaRoseisaRose
Summary: “Ooooh, I used to read about snowball fights,” Annette said cheerfully. “I always wished my mother would have one with me, but no luck.”“Ah. No,” Felix corrected quickly. “I mean we would just fight when there was snow out. With swords.”“Oh,” Annette said. “Well . . . was it fun?”“It was good conditioning.”“I see,” Annette said. She hastily took another sip of hot chocolate.OR: Snow comes to Garreg Mach. Written for the 2020 Secret Seteth Event!
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53
Collections: Netteflix Secret Seteth 2020





	winter dreams the same dream every time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmipon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmipon/gifts).



> The prompt I chose was "A cute winter/holiday themed moment between Annette and Felix (prompts: fireplace, hot chocolate, snow)." So here's all three of those!

Snow was rare in Garreg Mach, so the three feet that fell through the night and into the next morning might as well have been a blizzard for how the students and knights alike reacted to it.

Felix was used to snow. Fraldarius had harsh winters, sometimes starting as early as Wyvern Moon and often lasting well into Great Tree Moon. He wasn’t enchanted by the blanket of white that covered the grounds when he woke up that morning. He didn’t join in snowball fights or make plans to sit by the fire after classes or even change his jacket to something warmer. Snow wasn’t special enough to be celebrated. It was just a fact of winter.

Still didn’t make training in it any easier. It didn’t help that he suspected the officer that oversaw the training grounds was not adequately experienced in clearing snow for practice – why should he be? It barely snowed in Garreg Mach – and so a thin layer of snow covered patches of the training yard, and as the sun set, it was gradually beginning to solidify into ice.

The third time his feet flew out from under him and he scarcely recovered his balance, Felix decided he could no longer chalk this up to environmental conditioning. What use would 30 more minutes of training be if an injury took him off the battlefield at the end of the month? Rolling his eyes at the setback, Felix hung up his training sword and left the grounds with a curt nod to the two remaining knights of Seiros still brave enough to try to use the grounds that evening.

The sun was just disappearing below the horizon as he walked past the lower level student dorms, and Felix almost wished he’d brought a jacket or a cloak with him to train, just to give him some protection from the wind. It was nothing like the winter winds of northern Faerghus, but that didn’t make it _pleasant_.

In the end, however, he was glad he didn’t have a jacket, or really any sort of responsible winter wear. If he’d been walking with his hood up, he might have missed the faint singing coming from the kitchens as he passed by the dining hall.

Felix’s footsteps redirected before he could come up with a proper excuse, but as he approached the dining hall he figured he was probably in need of a cup of herbal tea. He could easily take it back to his room once he’d brewed it.

He walked into an empty dining hall. Dinner had ended hours ago and most students would be curled up in the Reception Hall or the Knight’s Hall if they sought the warmth of fireplaces or companionship that evening. The song was easier to hear now that he was inside, and Felix easily tracked the music to the kitchens, where the door was slightly ajar and someone was singing about snowflakes and cherry tarts.

Felix wandered into the kitchens – where the tea was, obviously – and was unsurprised to find Annette there. She was balanced precariously on a stool that was balanced precariously on a box. She reached up to one of the tallest shelves in the pantry as she continued her song, which still was about snowflakes, but had introduced a motif of bluebirds that Felix found frankly baffling compared to the earlier narrative.

“Do you need a hand?” he asked, watching in vague horror as the box wobbled and Annette leaned further into the cupboard.

“ _And the birds will sing as we eat every-_ wah!!” Annette said, whirling around in surprise towards Felix’s voice. Unfortunately for her, whatever litheness she usually had for whirling around (which Felix suspected wasn’t particularly high to begin with) was encumbered by her heavy winter cloak, navy flecked with white, which she immediately became more tangled up in as she turned. This, combined with the rickety stool finally deciding to give in to gravity in unfortunate ways, caused her to pitch forward off the stool, arms flailing even as she clutched a small parchment package.

Felix dashed across the kitchen and barely caught her in time. It was then that he realized her cloak wasn’t patterned with white spots at all – no, Annette was simply _covered_ head to toe in snow. Snow sunk into his vest and sleeves and quickly melted into cold, cold water, and he shivered against Annette as she shivered against him.

She had not stopped flailing.

“Unhand me you – you _villain_!” she cried, waving her arms and legs wildly and uselessly. “Don’t you have better things to do than going around pushing girls off stools in the middle of the night?”

“I didn’t push you; I was halfway across the kitchen,” Felix grumbled, gently setting Annette to her feet and waiting a moment to make sure she would tumble over again before letting go and stepping away. He added, “I’m pretty sure knocking people around from a distance is what you wind mages do. You can leave me out of it.”

“Felix!” Annette cried, as if she’d only then realized it was him. Felix supposed he was glad “villain” was an all-purpose insult for her, and not one she’d specifically reserved for him. She looked him up and down, her eyes growing wide and horrified, and for a moment he worried she reserved that particular unhappiness for whenever she saw him until she continued, “Oh no no no, you’re _soaked_ , I’m so sorry!” She was already tugging at the ends of his sleeves and the buttons on his vest as if that would somehow help the situation. “You really can’t go around embracing girls like that, Felix, sometimes we’re holding sharp objects and that’s worse than a little snow.”

“I wasn’t _embracing_ – what even happened to you?” Felix spluttered, waving her off him. It wasn’t just her cloak – white, fluffy snowflakes clung to Annette. They had slightly melted into her hair, which was beginning to frizz around the edges, and dark patches across her school uniform all but guaranteed she’d at one point been even more covered in snow.

“Ah! Fell in a snow bank!”Annette explained cheerfully. “While coming down the stairs from the library. They’re kind of slippery!”

“And you’re in the kitchens because . . ?” Felix prompted.

Annette waved the parchment packet at him as if that explained everything. “Making hot cocoa!” she said. She pushed past him and flounced over the kitchen stovetops, where Felix realized a small saucepan was bubbling with – something. Hot cocoa, he guessed. He stared after her. Her cloak was still blue flecked with white, although now there were dark navy tracks in the shape of his arms where the snow had melted into her.

She had to be freezing.

Annette had eagerly unwrapped the parcel, which appeared to be a bar of chocolate, and had just broken it in half when Felix grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her away from the stove.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Annette protested, dropping her chocolate bar on the counter at the last second.

“Keeping you from catching hypothermia,” Felix muttered. “You’re _covered_ in snow, Annette. You can’t just walk around in wet clothes in the middle of winter.”

“Well I’m not taking them off in front of _you_ ,” Annette muttered.

“Not asking you to,” Felix said shortly. “At least give your cloak.”

He’d stopped in front of the small fireplace at the back of the kitchen. A room dedicated to ovens and cooking didn’t need a ton of extra heat, and the fire had long gone out, but he figured it would still be the warmest place in the building.

Annette glared at him for a solid few seconds, but was outmatched, if not by Felix’s returning glower, at least by the involuntary shiver of cold that ran down her body. With a final pout, she unclasped her cloak and handed it to him. Felix prodded her shoulder until she sat in a chair by the fireplace and then swung her cloak onto a hook by the hearth.

“The milk is going to burn,” she grumbled as Felix bent by the fireplace to relight the fire for the evening. Luckily, wood and kindling were already set up for the next day.

“I’ll finish making it, stop complaining,” Felix replied without thinking. He was distracted by trying to remember the basic incantations for lighting a fire. It was almost the first skill you learned in a class on practical magic, and Felix was better at magic than he had any right to be, but it still took him a moment or two to coax fiery life out of the dead and dry kindling in front of him.

The flames danced in Annette’s eyes as he glanced back at her. “You know how to make hot cocoa?” she asked, skeptical.

Felix grimaced. “It’s not that hard,” he said.

In truth, the last time he’d had hot cocoa, he’d been too short to see over the counter at what the cook was doing, when he hid in the kitchens playing with a castle mousing cat and avoiding his brother for some silly reason or another. But he was _pretty_ sure he knew the basic steps enough to make something halfway drinkable.

At any rate, Annette was leaning in towards the fire now, and she _seemed_ to be shivering less, so it was worth a try to make her hot cocoa if it would keep her front running around the kitchens in damp, cold clothes.

Felix walked over to the bubbling sauce pan and peered into it, stirring at it with the wooden spoon Annette had left on the counter. The chocolate must have been unsweetened, because Annette had also wrestled down a bag of sugar, which sat on the counter next to the spoon and the chocolate bar. Felix gingerly picked up the chocolate and began breaking small pieces into the milk, watching it change into swirls of tan and beige as he stirred.

Felix was not a talkative person even in the best of circumstances (although Ingrid had often accused him of being too talkative in the worst). With Annette, he was even more silent. Secretly, foolishly, he hoped if he stayed quiet, she’d eventually forget he was there, and would maybe start singing to herself again. He’d more or less given up hope that she’d sing to him.

He had no such luck. Instead, Annette, to his horror, tried to strike up a conversation.

“You must get a lot of snow in Fraldarius, huh?” she asked. Felix looked over at her for a moment and wondered how long she’d been staring at him. He also wondered how badly he was messing up her hot cocoa.

“I guess,” he mumbled, turning back to his work. The cocoa seemed the right color, so he gradually started adding in spoonfuls of the sugar, unsure how much was the correct amount. “I’m used to walking around in it, at least.”

“Oh, I am, too! We get plenty of snow in Dominic,” Annette said brightly. “I’m not usually so clumsy in snow; I just don’t think they shoveled the library steps very well. Pure ice, coming down.”

“Training grounds were terrible, too,” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “Maybe just stay on the ground floor until it melts.”

Annette snorted as Felix searched through a cabinet for a mug. It would take more than a handful of safety hazards to keep her from the library, he knew that much. “You’re having some, too, right?” she asked as Felix selected an oversized mug.

He frowned. “Less for you, that way.”

“It’s more fun to share,” she assured him. Felix shrugged and grabbed two smaller mugs instead.

“Do you have any fun traditions when it snows?” Annette asked him as he approached the fire and handed her a mug of hot cocoa. She took a sip and smiled the particular smile of delight that Annette reserved only for cookies and cakes, and Felix knew immediately he’d added too much sugar for his taste.

“Ummm, not really,” he said, taking a seat in the chair opposite hers. “I guess we drank hot cocoa sometimes.” He took a sip of his and tried to hide a wince. It tasted like liquid chocolate, which he supposed was the goal. He tried to think of things he did when it snowed. “We have a couple of spicy soups we only eat when it’s really cold out. And Glenn and I used to get into snow fights when we were kids.”

“Ooooh, I used to read about snowball fights,” Annette said cheerfully. “I always wished my mother would have one with me, but no luck.”

“Ah. No,” Felix corrected quickly. “I mean we would just fight when there was snow out. With swords.”

“Oh,” Annette said. “Well . . . was it fun?”

“It was good conditioning.”

“I see,” Annette said. She hastily took another sip of hot chocolate. Felix very much wished he’d filled the mugs more unevenly; at this rate she’d be done before he could even stomach a second sip. 

“Did . . . you have any fun traditions when it snows?” Felix asked hesitantly.

It must have been the right question, because Annette brightened immediately. “Oh yes, tons!” she said excitedly. “My uncle used to take me sledding, when I was little. And we always made sugar candies when it was cold out, I’m not sure why. And we sang songs at solstice, and my mother wasn’t any good at snowball fights, but we would make snow fairies and that was –”

“I’m sorry,” Felix repeated, only catching about half of what Annette was saying. “Snow fairies?”

“You know!” Annette said. She flapped her arms up and down in a way that almost spilled her cocoa but did not help Felix at all. “They have wings? In the snow?”

“Uhhhhh,” Felix said uncertainly.

“I’ll teach you how to make them,” Annette said, unconcerned.

What Felix wanted to say was “I’m okay, they sound awful.” What Felix should have said was “No, thank you, Annette.”

What he actually said was “What songs did you sing?”

Annette looked up sharply from her cocoa, and Felix took another gulp of his to hide behind the mug more effectively.

“Normal ones,” she said shortly, as if that answered his question and also several more he hadn’t asked. “Winter hymns to the goddess, of course. But just normal songs, too. Ones about winter. All those lullabies for solstice. I’m sure you sang the same ones.”

“Not really,” Felix mumbled. He could probably get through the hymns – his father dragged him to services often enough – but he had no idea what lullabies she was talking about. “We didn’t have a lot of music, growing up.”

“I’m surprised you consider yourself such an expert now, then,” Annette mumbled under her breath. She took another sip of cocoa, and Felix followed suit. It hadn’t gotten any more palatable since the last sip.

“Can I hear one?” Felix asked suddenly, surprising both Annette and himself twice in the span of a few minutes. He felt a strange nervous energy at the tips of his fingers, and his heart was beating very fast even though they were just sitting there. He blamed the sugar.

Annette looked at him suspiciously, and he wondered for a moment if she was going to bolt from the room, as she usually did when he brought up her music, and if he was ethically obligated to chase after her to make sure she didn’t fall down any more stairs if she did so.

That sounded exhausting, so he added “Please?” before she could protest.

Annette bit her lip to stop whatever she was planning on saying. “Okaaaaay,” she finally said, setting her empty mug down beside her. “But you have to close your eyes. It’s a lullaby, anyways, so you should pretend you’re falling asleep.”

Felix rolled his eyes before he closed them, but he did as she asked. Annette’s voice was soft and more trembling than he remembered from the greenhouse, and he wondered if he was to blame, or the song. But the melody was as lovely as her voice, minor and lilting and simple in a way he instantly caught on to.

_the wolf, the wolf, restless and lowly_

_stalks the forest, slowly, slowly_

_the wolf, the wolf, cries to the moon_

_I’ll be home soon, I’ll be home soon_

_at home, at home, her babies sleep_

_they know not that the woods are deep_

_they know not hunger, pain, or death_

_don’t wake them yet, don’t wake them yet_

“I have heard this,” Felix said, suddenly, blurting it out so fast he interrupted the third verse and hated himself for it.

“I’m sure you have! It’s very famous,” Annette said, smiling at him, unconcerned that her performance was now over.

Felix felt like he was still hearing the song, however, and from more memories than he could keep straight. Annette’s refrain repeated in his mind, but was replaced by another voice, softer still, but stronger – his mother, singing low in his ear as she held him. He remembered he was crying. He didn’t remember why. He remembered that the song was supposed to comfort him, but when he lay in bed that night he couldn’t he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the wolf, because –

“The wolf doesn't have a family,” Felix said, frowning as he played the song back in his mind.

Annette laughed, somewhere between a scoff and a giggle. “Of course she does, Felix, that’s why she’s hunting! To feed her babies.”

“No, I’ve never heard that verse before – the wolf is lonely. That’s what the song says. Restless and lonely.”

Annette scowled at him. “That doesn’t even rhyme!”

Felix crossed his arms. “Well, what does it mean for a wolf to be ‘lowly’? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“And now you’re back again with your poetic criticism!” Annette said, rolling her eyes. “It’s just a nice song about a lovely wolf family, Felix! We could hear them howling at night, in Dominic. Maybe that’s why my mother sang it to me, so often. It made them less scary.”

“Maybe,” Felix said, still trying to remember if he knew a second verse, and what happened to the wolf in his version. He looked back into his cocoa mug. “I guess there are regional variations to the lyrics.”

“Well! Mine are better,” Annette said brightly, and that seemed to be the end of that argument. She peered over at Felix. “You want me to wash up your mug? I should probably be heading to bed.”

“I’ll take care of it; I still have some left,” Felix said. It was partially true, although he’d drunk more of it than he thought he would, mostly without noticing. He fully planned to dump the rest out an unsuspecting window as soon as Annette was gone, but she didn’t need to know that.

Instead, he stood and grabbed Annette’s cloak from off the hook where it hung by the fire. He patted it down, and was pleased to see that it was more or less dry – certainly warmer and more dry than it had been when he first entered the kitchen.

“Don’t fall into any more snow banks on your way home,” he told Annette solemnly, flinging the cloak around her shoulders and helping her adjust the clasps on the front. “Your cloak has seen enough adventure for one night, I think.”

Annette’s fingers fumbled against his momentarily, and when the cloak was securely fastened in place, she looked up at him and smiled a smile he thought was reserved for hot cocoa.

“You know Felix, you can be awfully sweet when you put your mind to it,” she said.

Felix felt his ears get hot. He blamed the fireplace. “Well, no one will believe you if you tell them,” he said, dropping his hands from the cloak and moving to take a step back.

Before he got very far, Annette leaned toward him, and for a moment Felix thought she had somehow tripped on nothing once again. But instead, she braced her hand against his shoulder, leaned up on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek, so quickly that he’d almost thought he’d imagined it, except for how the heat stayed behind.

“I’ll teach you how to make snow fairies tomorrow,” she told him. She was gone before he could argue.

Felix meant to clean up the kitchen, walk back to his room, and fall asleep as soon as possible so he could be up with the sun and on the training grounds to watch the ice melt. Instead, he sat by the fire for longer than he meant, sipping the remains of the hot cocoa, long cold, and replaying the song about the wolf in his head until he could no longer remember who was singing or whether the wolf was really alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally the lyrics were even MORE of a ripoff of Louis Sachar. Like, complete lines almost exactly the same. This was totally by accident; I just read Holes way too many times at an extremely formative age and now I think all songs should be about wolves. I've changed them now so now it's more homage, I guess!
> 
> I don't actually know if this is how you make hot chocoate without Nesquick. I looked up a recipe online but got bored halfway through and didn't finish reading it. If I'm wrong, please don't tell me; I do not know what the Fodlan equivalent of cocoa powder is and I have no intention of learning.
> 
> Anyway! Happy Secret Seteth, everyone! It's been a really fun event and there are some super cute fics in the series for it; be sure to check them out if you get a minute! And thank you to Emmi for the fun prompt - it was a real treat to write! Stay safe and warm out there, everyone, whether it's snowing where you are or not.


End file.
